


somnium submersi

by VolunteerFieryDantooinian



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Could be either widofjord or fjord/Molly or both, Drowning, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Insomnia, M/M, Nightmares, could also be fjorester, vomiting mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-21 03:39:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13732356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VolunteerFieryDantooinian/pseuds/VolunteerFieryDantooinian
Summary: Fjord's interactions with each of the other party members when he wakes up drowning.





	somnium submersi

**Author's Note:**

> edgy? yes.  
> Fluff? DEFINITELY.  
> Tagged for possible ships, but none of these are 100% romantic; however, you could interpret them that way if you wish.

-

 

 

1\. **Beauregard**

 

 The first time it happened after the battle of Alfield, Beau was the one that woke up. That was a small mercy- Fjord figured that anyone else would have woken the others. 

He'd uneasily managed to fall asleep that night after the battle; the bed was not the most comfortable, but it was heaven compared to the ground. Yet again, he'd spiraled into some in between of sleep and wakefulness, a dizzying feeling he hadn't quite gotten used to. 

When he opened his eyes, he was underwater. It was roughly the same as last time, although this time, there were no currents: the water was entirely still. His lungs burned and protested, and this time, knowing he wouldn't drown, he breathed in. The viscosity of the water felt odd to his lungs, but he could breathe all the same. His skin felt clammy and cold, half frozen. Worse than last time. Snaking tentacles of darkness wound around him, slimy and thick, and he grimaced. 

"Patron." His voice bubbled and he decided speaking wasn't worth the effort. Slowly, the huge yellow searchlight of an eye slid open, halfway blinding him for the first few seconds. The water glowed green around him. 

"Good," An impossibly deep voice thundered through the water around him, although somehow he knew it was in his head and not actually out loud. "Learn. Continue," The Patron boomed, like a million drowned, dead voices on top of each other at once, wet and thick and consuming him entirely. He still couldn't see the creature-or whatever his patron was. "Shape."

And with that, the eye slid shut, like the slow trickle of water down a cave wall. Fjord was alone now, and now that his patron was gone, his plight set in. His lungs seized and his chest burned as he gripped at his throat, one of the thick tendrils wrapping around his leg and dragging him, dragging him down-

Fjord spluttered awake, still clutching his throat, and he sat bolt upright, choking on the sudden rush of water from his lungs. The salt burned his throat like he'd been poisoned, which wouldn't be the weirdest thing, but he knew it was his damn patron's fault. He coughed hard, trying to be as quiet as he could so he wouldn't wake the others, but soon enough, someone stirred. He froze, chest heaving as he silenced his coughing fit- but there was no use. 

"Fjord?" Beau's voice, soft and scratchy with sleep. Some part of him sinks in relief- he really, really hated experiencing this alone. He tried to speak, tried to tell her he was alright, but the words ended up devolving into a coughing fit. Nearly silently, Beau padded over to his bed and sat next to him. "You ok, buddy?" Her voice was surprisingly gentle as she patted his back. Saltwater dripped from his nose as he coughed, but it didn't take long for him to get himself together. 

"I'm just fine, Beau," Fjord assured her, voice scratchy. She frowns at him in the gentle light of the moon. 

"Bullshit. You had one of those dreams again, didn't you?" It was a rhetorical question, but Fjord nodded in response anyway. He was exhausted, but he didn't want to fall asleep again. He dreaded the very idea. They sat in silence for a while, Beau examining him with observant, tired eyes. "Kinda sucks your patron does that to you. Makes you drown in your sleep and all that," She muttered, frowning sourly. Clearly, she disliked that more than she was letting on. He let it go. 

"Yeah," Fjord frowned too. It fucking sucked. "Now, if you'll excuse me, my patron never strikes more than once in a night, and I know you could use some sleep as well, so I'm going to try to sleep a little," He explained, and only half of that sentence was a lie. Beau really could use some sleep, and so could he. His patron had never struck twice in one night, but he knew it was very possible. Beau frowned over at him again. 

"Alright, but if you wake up again, let me know, alright? It'd fucking suck to deal with that alone," She tried to be nonchalant and failed. Beau patted him on the shoulder and went back to her spot on the floor, grabbing her blanket. She moved her stuff closer to where he was sleeping and curled up. He pulled the blankets back on, not letting his nerves get the better of him.

"Night, Beau."

"Night."

 

 

 

2.  **Mollymauk**

 

Next, their little adventuring party was a day out of Alfield. Everyone's nerves were still shot, so they stopped a little earlier than usual to set up camp. Rest was important- especially when you'd just been in a huge fight. Fjord settled down his bedroll and blanket pretty quick, but soon enough, the inky black of night enrobed their camp. They had a fire going, but it was weak. 

Fjord rubbed his hands together and blew into them, trying to generate the slightest bit of warmth. It was fairly cold, but he was always a bit colder than usual, especially for a half-Orc. It was a side effect of his patronage. Everyone was pretty quiet, except for Jester and Nott's animated discussion of pastries- though he figured they'd likely wear themselves down soon enough. 

Sure enough, within an hour, everyone was getting fairly sleepy. Mollymauk halfway snapped out of a tired stupor from across the fire. 

"You know what, I'll take first watch. The rest of you, get some sleep. Lord knows you need it," He clapped his hands together and, with a flourish, he climbed into the nearest tree. With that, the rest of the party members began to settle down into their bedrolls, Nott curling up at Caleb's feet slightly like a pet of some kind. Beau sort of curled up around her staff and Jester was sprawled out on the ground, snoring. Eventually, with the rhythm of the rest of the group humming around him, Fjord slowly started to drift off to sleep, the darkness around him easy to fall into even in the cold. 

Soon enough, Fjord found himself slipping into the ever-familiar liminal space between wakefulness and a dream with The Patron. He found himself unconsciously preparing for the journey. After a few minutes of limbo, he jolted awake in a too-familiar setting- the deck of a pitching ship. She had halfway sunk already, the bow partially cracking down the middle. The ship pitched hard and he careened into the railing, the splintering of weak wood echoing in his ears with a loud crack. His back and shoulders stung from the blow, and finally, with one last heave, the ship's ultimatum arrived- a towering, spitting wave was looming above. It was a familiar sight, and he didn't trust himself to move, didn't trust himself to breathe. His heart clenched in hopeless fear- It wasn't the most common emotion for him, which somehow made it worse, turning his stomach as he backed up in a failed attempt to get out of the way. 

The wave crashed down on him with a thundering roar, and he was utterly blinded by the force of it. Seafoam spit into his eyes and the freezing water numbed his extremities as the currents and whitewash shoved him down, plunging him into darkness. It burned the cut on his back, and a piece of driftwood slammed into his chest. He found himself choking, foam sucked into his lungs. The substance was watery and tasted like brine and decay. The water was worse, making his lungs burn and seize as he tried to breathe, tried to fight his way to the surface-

But before he could, a thick, slimed tentacle curled around his middle, strong enough to crack his ribs but choosing not to. A sinking sense of dread rushed through him like the sediment settling. Another brute of a wave slammed down, but he could barely feel the crushing pain of that when the noise of drowning was taking him. Excruciatingly slowly, the yellow beam of The Patron's eye flicked on, and suddenly he could breathe, but he knew it would be brief. He remembered this. 

"Fjord," The cavernous, jolting boom of Its voice crashed over his ears like a wave. "Learn. Fight. Consume..." It gazed at him with the quiet malevolence of the sea. "Falchion."

And with that, the eye was gone. The tentacle snaked around his whole body, and the sense of drowning returned, darkness swallowing him-

Fjord awoke with what should have been a panicked cry but ended up being an awful choking noise. It clearly wasn't long after he'd fallen asleep, given the inky void that still surrounded him, but he didn't really care. All he cared about at the moment was breathing. He weakly managed to roll onto his side and cough a strangled cough, lungs heaving as he leaned forward to let the water drain from his lungs. It was a sickening feeling, and it hurt bad enough to make his eyes water as he spluttered and coughed. There was a ringing in his ears, and somebody was sitting beside him, watching inquisitively. He was too busy trying not to vomit to see who it was. The night air was biting his bare arms, his shirt all wet and stinging. 

"Is it your patron again?" Mollymauk's gently accented voice rang out from beside him, and he quickly moved to help Fjord. "Alright, you'll feel a little better if we get you sitting up," His voice was calm and oddly collected, like he'd seen this a thousand times before. Molly's warm hands took his shoulders and pulled him into a sitting position, rubbing his back in slow, rhythmic circles. The change in position made Fjord cough, a little more water being displaced from his lungs. His breaths were wet and bubbling in between coughs. Molly hit him between the shoulder blades with the flat of his palm hard enough to send him into a coughing fit. As Fjord doubled over, Molly kept one hand on his back to steady him. "Alright, you're alright. Just breathe," He soothed. His throat felt like he'd swallowed glass, a sharp burn spreading through his chest.

The coughing fits had totally sapped his energy, leaving him weak and shivering hard. Mollymauk pulled him to his feet. Fjord swayed, nearly fell, swayed again. Molly managed to get him over to the remaining embers of the fire, noticing his shivering and frowning. "Gods, you're freezing. We have to get you warm, alright?" He threw a log onto the half-dead pile and smiled in satisfaction as it burst into flame. Fjord warmed his hands, giving him a grateful nod. Mollymauk frowned for a moment and started rummaging through his bag. He pulled out another bag, a small teakettle, a chipped cup, and a skin of water. He poured a decent amount of water into the kettle and nestled it at the very edge of the fire.

Fjord watched him in a daze. Molly sat down next to him, gazing at him with intelligent eyes. "You'll catch your death if you aren't more careful, Fjord." He produced a blanket out of nowhere that he brought around Fjord's shoulders. They sat in silence until the kettle started to whistle, and Molly dashed over to grab it. He poured something from the bag into the cup and then poured the steaming water over it. The substance was presumably tea, but with Mollymauk, you could never tell. He handed it off to Fjord. "Drink it. You need to warm up," He held his hands on top of Fjord's for a moment, then let go. Molly pressed a quick, warm kiss to his forehead. The mug nearly burned his fingers he was so cold, but he appreciated the gesture. 

"Thank you," Fjord managed, voice scratchy from saltwater. He sipped the drink cautiously, and a vaguely earthy bitterness filled his mouth. It wasn't too bad, and it was hot, so he kept drinking it. 

"Of course," Mollymauk said softly. "That's what teams are for. We take care of our own," He explained. Gently, he pressed the back of his hand to Fjord's forehead. "Okay, just wanted to check. Weirder things have happened," He shrugged, and Fjord continued to sip his tea, not feeling quite as weak as he had a few minutes ago. Molly was a bit of an enigma and was typically the one getting all banged up, so it was interesting for the roles to be reversed. 

After a few minutes had passed, Mollymauk set a featherlight hand on his shoulder. "You looked pretty shaken by whatever your patron did. What happened, exactly, if you don't mind me asking?" 

"Just a... Reminder, I s'pose. They like their dramatics, and it's never enough to hurt me," Fjord shrugged, but just as he said it, he started to cough, breath wheezing. While what he'd said was true, he figured it was only a matter of time before he caught pneumonia because of his patron's bullshit. It was real water, it didn't just materialize in his lungs and then magically vanish once he'd managed to stop choking. It was just normal water, or as normal as water from an ocean deity dream could be. "I swear, Molly, I'm alright."

"You sure about that? You were pretty much drowning on land a few minutes ago. I'd say that hurts, 'specially if that shit sticks in your lungs." Mollymauk gently rested his hand on his back, just a little to the right of his left shoulder blade. "Gods, you're tense. You know what, come here. You'll never get back to sleep if your shoulders are all knotted up like that, poor thing," He almost sounded like someone's doting grandparent. Fjord slid a little closer to Molly, who sat behind him. 

He started slowly and gently, almost kneading his shoulders like a cat would, going in with the flat of his palms. Mollymauk massaged in rhythmic patterns, nearly enough to put him to sleep anyway. As time went on, he worked on the knots in his lower back, fingers unsurprisingly deft as the tension in Fjord's shoulders loosened, and while he coughed occasionally, he actually started to feel better. The ache he hadn't realized had been there was finally releasing.

By the time he finished, he was practically melting in Molly's hands, the lack of tension giving away to exhaustion. "Better?" He gave him a fanged grin that was a little softer than usual. Fjord managed to nod, finding his grasp on wakefulness slipping a little. He leaned into his shoulder. Molly put an arm around him and kissed his temple gently. "That's good. Just get some sleep, alright? I won't let the ocean deities get you, not on my watch."

 

Fjord got some sleep.  

 

 

 

3.  **Jester**

The third time, there wasn't a dream or an explanation. That was the worst part of it. All he seemed to recall was a flash of yellow, his falchion vanishing from his hand, and suddenly he was on his knees, choking. His head swam as if he was underwater, even though he was not. 

The spell hadn't been anything special, but it had been new- his enemy, a single gnoll, had been practically and literally vaporized by it, but now he couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't- 

Fjord tried to remember what his mother had told him once about choking on water, but it was some silly saying they had around Port Damali, nothing particularly useful. His ears were ringing and the scent of brine was in his nose, practically surrounding him, and it was enough to turn his stomach. His muscles had locked up like he'd been electrocuted, lungs seizing painfully hard. He couldn't seem to cough, or even exhale, couldn't move. 

"Fjord! Oh, shit shit shit shit shit," Jester's familiar voice brought a sudden surge of relief even in his panic. She roughly tipped his head forward, one hand splayed in the middle of his back as an anchor. The movement made him cough, a sudden gush of water splashing down his front. Jester carded her fingers through his hair as he kept choking, nose and throat burning from the saltwater. "How did that happen? There's not even any water around here, you silly reckless- idiot!" She wasn't actually angry, he didn't think, just upset. 

He didn't respond and kept coughing, an uncomfortable wheeze in his chest as the water was slowly worked loose. This, now, this was worrying- he had no idea how the water had gotten there, or why. Part of him suspected it was the spell- he'd experienced a whole range of side effects from spells, but that usually didn't go beyond nausea or exhaustion.

This, well. This was different. He knew many spells had consequences, especially more powerful ones, but that... That had been horrible. His entire body ached, and while he'd managed to cough up most of the water within a few minutes, his breathing was still unsteady and wheezing. A general sense of being unwell had blanketed him the second he'd cast it, and still hadn't left.

"Fjord, what happened?" She rested her hand on his shoulder. "Are you really, really sure you aren't turning into water? Because you couldn't breathe right there and I was really scared and I thought you were gonna die-" She cut herself off. "But you didn't! Which is good!" Jester's overwhelming positivity was almost frightening but mostly comforting. She was probably trying to keep herself from freaking out.

"I- Jester, it wasn't even a Patron dream, there was a gnoll and I used a new spell and it got vaporized, but I couldn't breathe. It came out of nowhere, my lungs just didn't work." He was taking shallow, quick breaths, chest still aching with the weight of the water. The heavy, painful itch of water still saturated in your lungs was a special kind of hellish. Nothing like that had ever happened before- the worst that had happened because of a Patron visit was being nauseous and exhausted for nearly a whole day. Definitely not, you know, having his muscles lock up and not being able to breathe or cough at all. 

Fjord shuddered, resting his head on his knees and exhaling slowly. His breath kept catching, shoulders hitching as his thoughts ran a million miles a minute. "Fjord, are you alright?" Jester's gentle lilt of an accent helped to calm him a little. Her hand stayed on his back, and he looked up at her with exhausted eyes and shot nerves. 

She pulled him into a tight embrace, his face enveloped in her cloak as she did so. He hugged her back, dizzy, trying to cling to something familiar. She was familiar. Jester was familiar. Her cloak was familiar, soft and green and worn. Her hugs were familiar. Even her scent was familiar, the odd combination of cake icing and wildflowers. Something about all of this familiarity tugged at his heart, and he didn't realize his eyes were wet until he'd already stopped crying. She held him, stroked his hair. He shivered violently as she held him, hands shaking as he held onto her for dear life. After an indeterminate amount of time, he pulled away. 

"I didn't realize how much I needed that. Thank you, Jester," Fjord expressed, feeling a little awkward after crying in front of her. To be fair, she hadn't seen him cry, per se, but he'd been shaking bad enough that it was pretty obvious. Jester beamed at him.

"Anytime."  

 

4\. **Yasha**

 

 

This occurrence was, perhaps, the strangest. Luckily it was a dream, not another spell mishap, but it was still unpleasant. He'd managed to fall asleep after a few hours of tossing and turning, but this was where the weird part began- he didn't even remember the dream. He remembered the time between the dream and being awake, he remembered the searchlight eye and not being able to breathe, but the dream itself had been lost to him. 

Fjord spluttered awake with a watery gasp, clutching at the still-achy wound on his side from the mines. He began to cough, and after, say, 10 minutes, he was able to expel maybe a half-gallon of bitter seawater, coughing so hard and so loudly he wouldn't be surprised if he woke half of the group. He managed to get to his feet, stumbling away from the campsite in a dazed fashion. Even if he got attacked, he didn't want to wake anyone else. They needed their sleep. 

Fjord settled against a tree at the edge of the clearing, closing his eyes and fighting the coughing that refused to stop. His chest hitched hard enough that it felt like he could crack a rib just coughing. He couldn't quite seem to catch his breath, and he knew that wasn't a good sign. An unfamiliar sort of vertigo swept through him, and he felt uncomfortably clammy and cold in the night air. Too dead, really. He knew he wasn't actually dead- his patron had made sure of that- but ever since he'd been claimed, he'd never felt quite this cold. Fjord sat shivering underneath the tree, head on his knees, trying to cough those bone-shattering coughs as quietly as possible. 

He heard someone clear their throat, and looked up. There in the moonlight was the ever-aloof, surprisingly quiet Yasha, eyes putting off a cool glow in the moonlight, her skin shimmering ever-so-slightly. 

"You aren't sounding so good," She seemed genuine when she said it, plopping down next to him unceremoniously. 

"Tell me about it," Fjord rasped, and he launched into another coughing fit, his throat burning. The deep, sharp hacking was so intense he ended up on his hands and knees, gagging. The combination of vertigo and coughing fits wasn't doing his stomach any favors, that was for sure. He coughed a little more seawater onto the ground, and the taste of the ocean made him nauseous. 

"If you're so sick, why aren't you waking up any of the others? Jester could help you," She suggested, frowning in the moonlight. "Are you sick? You certainly don't look too well," Yasha, even with her intimidating demeanor, had a soft side, one that shone through her searchlight eyes. 

"I'm not sick, Yasha. I just.. Had a nightmare that was a little _too_  realistic," Fjord said quietly, as to not strain his voice. "It comes with my abilities, I suppose," He added, not wanting to tell her much, but he didn't want her to think he was dying or something. It was an easy mistake to make. She nodded in sympathy, checked her fingernails. 

They sat in complete silence for a while until Yasha spoke up. 

"Shouldn't you be sleeping while you can? You look like you need it," Her face twisted into a concerned expression. He nodded and got to his feet. Fjord should've known it wouldn't be that easy; a sudden wave of vertigo flooded over him, making it hard to stand. He would've fallen if Yasha hadn't caught him. Her hands were very, very warm, and that made him sleepy, which he hadn't thought would happen anytime soon. "Easy," She warned, slipping an arm around his shoulder. "When I told you to get some sleep, that's definitely not what I meant," Yasha led him back to the campsite, and when he reached his bedroll, sleep came nearly instantly as he lost his grip on reality.

When he awoke the next morning, Yasha was gone.

 

 

5.  **Nott**

 

Fjord's little mishaps with his patron never seemed to happen in public. This time, however, was an exception.   
The day had been long, too long in his opinion, if he was being honest. Their little adventuring party had ended up trudging back to Alfield, bruised but victorious, and then to the nearest inn. He'd grabbed the first chair he saw and ordered a round of drinks for everyone, getting something a little bit stronger for himself. After maybe 20 minutes, he grinned at Mollymauk across the table. He wasn't quite drunk, but after this, he certainly would be.

"Could I get a round of the strongest stuff you got, please?" The barmaid gave him a nod and returned in a flash with 12 shot glasses of a luminescent pink liquid. He took 6, and the ostentatious tiefling took 6. Fjord took all of them in quick, near-perfect form, grimacing at the bitterness of the sickly sweetness. Each glass clicked as he turned it down. Even with his ability, Mollymauk had downed them within mere seconds, and now his tongue was flicking in triumph as he gazed over at Fjord. 

"Nobody beats me at this game. I'm thinking you're playing to lose, Fjord," His accent had grown a little stronger, but he didn't seem too drunk. Fjord was ready to prove him right, ordering another round of shots. As they played this continuous game, the others gradually went to bed, Caleb going first in the din of the tavern. Mollymauk noticed this, and soon after the wizard had left, he followed, poorly disguising his concern. Fjord and Nott were soon the only ones down there, aside from the bartender, who was looking sleepier by the minute. Fjord himself was getting a bit tired, likely at the effect of the copious amounts of alcohol he'd ingested. 

He felt the gentle tide of sleep pulling at his mind, and before he knew it, he was in his mindscape, the glaring light of The Patron's eye shining down upon him. Something in him wished that Shakäste had stayed, knowing that the old man would have likely woken him before he could get to this point. The Patron's eyes stayed, remained staring at him, and Fjord decided to try something. 

He focused, calling all of his energy into his being, feeling his fingers tingle with magic for a moment. 

"Cease." Fjord covered his eyes, voice watery and echoing. He peeked through his fingers, and found his patron was still there. "CEASE!" He winced at the way the water slid over his vocal chords and through his lungs, and suddenly the water around him went dark. Now that his patron was gone, he was drowning, which meant he was bound to wake up sooner rather than later. His lungs burned, heaving against thousands of gallons of water pressure and the water itself. 

Fjord's eyes drifted open and he found himself on the floor, a small pair of hands frantically shaking his shoulders. 

"Fjord! Fjord, what the fuck? Wake up," Nott's high, panicky voice was enough to snap him back to consciousness, and she slapped him hard across the face. That was enough to really wake him up and set him coughing hard. His lungs seized and a gush of lukewarm saltwater burned his mouth and nose as he coughed it up. That seemed to be about it, which was a small blessing. A little dizzy, he pushed himself into a sitting position. "You had a bad dream again, I guess? Really bad?" Nott asked, half rhetorical. "The real question is, what the fuck, Fjord? That was terrifying, I mean, if that's your one party trick, whatever, but jeez!" She was rambling, trying to calm herself down. 

"Nott," He interrupted, voice as soft as he could get it. "Kid, I'm alright, I promise. You've been through enough worryin' today, alright? This is nothing, kid." Fjord put his hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort the small goblin girl. She took a deep breath and nodded, eyeing her flask, but not drinking from it. "You're really brave, Nott, you know that? Not many people could do what you did today." He wasn't usually one for motivational talks, but he suspected he was still intoxicated. She frowned at the floor. 

"Thanks, Fjord," Nott mumbled, something hesitant in her voice, almost like she was going to cry. "You know, sleeping isn't a half-bad idea," She proposed, shrugging a little. He nodded.

"You're probably not half wrong, Nott. I know I'm still... Fairly intoxicated, but even now I know sleeping couldn't hurt." He didn't want to. Oh gods, he didn't want to. 

The two of them walked up the stairs together, and if she held his hand, neither of them mentioned it. Both of them sat against the wall in the crowded sleeping space, Fjord anxiously drumming his fingers on his knee, eyeing the shadows. Nott looked tired and haunted, still banged up from the Manticore fight. She was shaking, just a little. They sat in silence as the others slept. Caleb was asleep in Molly's lap, and Molly was also asleep. Beau was curled around her staff, and Jester was sprawled across Beau.

The rhythm of their party's breathing was enough to make Fjord exhausted, nerves still shot from battle and copious drinking. He knew he'd wake up with a killer hangover, and he made a nest on the floor with his blanket. Nott crawled over to Caleb, curling up on top of him like a cat would. She mouthed a 'goodnight' to him, and he mouthed one back. He found himself falling asleep again, and was unsure where that would take him.

He'd have to wait and see.

 

 

 

6. **Caleb**

 

Fjord was totally blindsided when the attack came. They'd only just passed out of a small, nameless village, but with their members still weary as they left Zedash, their guard was low. That's how they ended up getting stuck up by a caravan of 3 vagabond raiders, and now the oldest of the 3 had him in her sights. 

He'd been feeling off all day, like there was something generally very wrong. His head had hurt too, and this was the last thing he needed right now. Fjord called his falchion to him, and faced her in combat. He muttered a few words and a black, swirling mass of energy circled her. Then an eldritch, greenish beam of light shot from his falchion into her shoulder, and she cried out in pain. He spun his sword and took a huge swing at her, carving through her chest like a barbed hook in the mouth of a fish. Also like a fish, she gasped for air, falling to the ground. 

That was when everything went wrong. 

Fjord felt a hot, piercing strike to his back and shoulder, flaying the flesh open and sending forks of electricity up his spine. An awful, eardrum-shattering crunch sounded through the air, and he screamed at the fire in his back. His muscles seized and he fell to the ground. He couldn't feel his legs, and the back of his shirt was wet. Someone kicked him so he was lying on his back, and there was an odd hissing sound of a language he didn't recognize. Fjord felt his breathing slow, his blood growing cold. There was an odd pain in his chest. Was he dying? A warm, wet trickle of blood dripped down his chin. 

Suddenly the ground shook, a sudden thunderclap sounding seconds before rain began to pour down in sheets. Someone screamed, and Fjord's vision flickered yellow for a second. He could feel again, but he wasn't acting on his own- someone else had taken over. As easily as could be, he got to his feet, and strode over to the person who had struck him down. The younger vagabond, a tiefling man with black eyes. He didn't do anything, just looked on in awe as the familiar flare of magic sparked in Fjord's chest. A small spray of seafoam leapt from his fingers as he touched the man's cheek. Black, cold energy spread from that spot, and he dissolved as if he was also sea foam. 

Fjord glanced over to see that Caleb had struck down the third vagabond bandit, and was now looking at him in awe. With that, the newfound energy left him as quickly as it had come. He could taste blood in his mouth, and his knees buckled. As his lungs began to fail, vision failing with them, he wondered if he was going to die. 

-

 

Fjord awoke with rain pouring on his face. There was a blurry form above him, and the soft warmth of whoever was holding him told him it was Caleb. 

"Breathe, you fucking idiot!" His accent was stronger when he was worried, Fjord thought feverishly, and realized he couldn't breathe. Caleb's warm, shaking hands were clutching his face, and he realized he'd been doing mouth-to-mouth on him. He rolled him onto his side, holding his shoulders and muttering curse words in Zemnian. Fjord's lungs protested and he choked on a mouthful of icy water. His fucking patron again. He coughed long, shuddering coughs, and Caleb very gently helped him into a sitting position. "Come on, you're alright. Just breathe,  _perle._ "

A freezing gush of water burned his throat as he coughed it up. Caleb's warm fingers were running through his hair in an attempt to ground him. He didn't think he was bleeding anymore, but he could still taste blood in his mouth. It sickened him to think about, and as he inhaled, the scent of the ocean hit his nostrils. 

Fjord flinched and started to cough so hard it made him gag, and he ended up too dizzy to think straight. He thought about what had happened, what his patron had done. His stomach rolled like waves crashing against the darkened shore. Fjord retched hard, the burn of seawater in his throat as water dripped from his cold lips. Too cold.

He remembered the first time he'd drowned. The thought made him retch again, and he was shivering painfully hard. The taste of salt in his mouth was enough to make him vomit, Caleb rubbing his back with one hand and holding him up with the other. They sat in miserable silence, Fjord taking a few minutes to get himself together.

"Caleb, I-" His wrecked voice sent him into a fit of coughing, and Caleb shushed him. 

" _Perle,_ we need to get you out of this downpour. I know you don't feel well, I know, but I promise you'll feel a little better if you're off of the ground," he stroked Fjord's soaked hair, brushing limp strands of it out of his eyes. Caleb wrapped an arm around his shoulders and eased him to his feet. 

Beau rushed around to his other side, and with that level of support, he barely managed to make it to the cart. Jester scooped him into her arms like he weighed as much as a kitten, the warm pulse of healing magic flooding his weak form. He felt a little better, and his lungs didn't burn as much. His back wasn't, you know, gushing blood anymore. He suspected his patron may have had something to do with that, as well as Jester's abilities. Caleb held his overcoat over Fjord the best he could, but the rain was still freezing, and he was still miserable. He felt weak and sick from blood loss, and sicker still from the near drowning.

Fjord looked down at his hands, and froze when he noticed they were still covered in blood. Dark, nearly-black blood, presumably his own, beginning to run off of his calloused fingers because of the rain. There was still quite a bit on his armor, too. He wasn't bleeding anymore, but he had been lying in a pool of his own blood for a while, so he wasn't surprised. The sight still made him take in a sharp breath, seeing his own blood like that. He remembered how deep the greataxe had cut into his shoulder, the sheer amount of blood gushing from his back. The sickening crunch of bone. 

"Well, fuck." His voice had an unfamiliar, wavering quality to it as his vision spun, already blurred by the rain.

Accordingly, he fainted.

 

The next time Fjord awoke, he was in Caleb’s lap, wrapped in the thickest blanket they had. The rain had stopped. He grimaced and pushed himself up so he could lean into Caleb’s chest. Fjord lost his balance and leaned heavily against him, shivering. The sick, familiar twist of vertigo washed over him, and he pressed closer to Caleb. The perpetually warm wizard wrapped his arms around him, fluffing his hair with gentle fingers. 

“Take it slow,  _perle._ You are still in no condition to be going anywhere, especially not with how much blood you lost," Caleb said, and looked Fjord over. "You’re quite pale,” He frowned, touching a gentle hand to Fjord’s cheek. “Oh, you’re very cold. That’s not good.” Caleb pressed a kiss to his forehead that felt like fire. Another kiss, this one at the corner of his eye, and the last on his forehead again. He buried his face in Caleb's overcoat, and let him hold him for a while. He adjusted Fjord in his lap so he was as close as possible to him, and rested his chin on top of his head. Slowly, Caleb stroked his hair, occasionally letting his fingers trail down the sides of his face that weren't shoved into his coat. "I'm right here," he said. "I'm right here, and I know you feel like shit right now, but I can promise you you're going to be fine." 

Fjord wrapped his arms around Caleb, absorbing as much of his warmth as he could. He was here. He was safe. Not to mention that he was perfectly content to stay here for as long as possible. Caleb's warm fingers trailed down his spine, and Fjord moved his head off of Caleb's shoulder so he could look him in the eyes. Something inside him cracked at that moment, and he settled back into Caleb's arms, closing his eyes tightly. He realized he was shaking. Not crying or anything, just shivering hard. "Fjord, you can tell me if there's something wrong. That is, if there is anything?" He said, and Fjord shook his head. 

"I'm just a little shaken, is all," Fjord replied as quickly as he could muster, bringing his face out of his shoulder. It wasn't exactly a lie. He surely wasn't feeling the best, but Caleb knew that already. 

"Okay,  _perle,_ but you must tell me if you need anything,  _ja?_ You've had one hell of a fucking day," Caleb said. "But what you need the most right now is some rest." A gentle, almost fond look formed in his eyes, and he gave Fjord a gentle kiss on the forehead. "You're safe now." And with that, Fjord let sleep take him, when it came. 

 

No matter what happened, he knew his family would be there.

 

 

 


End file.
